Shattered World, Book 1: Cracked
by butshesginger
Summary: Undergoing editing.
1. The Great Quake of Surrey

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the fandoms I write in. Whilst this is a multi-verse fanfiction, I got inspired by Pacific Rim and Kingdom Hearts (thus they will not be present in this fanfiction). I am an American writer thus there will be Americanisms. I thought I would try to write one of those "Gary-Stu" fanfictions that either everyone hates or loves. Along with an obvious HarryXMulti pairing as you know those tropes go together so brilliantly. I will try my best not to make it too terrible, however.

 **Warnings:** This fanfiction will feature graphic content of violent, sexual, and twisted natures.

 **Shattered World, Book 1: Cracked**

 **Chapter 1: The Great Quake of Surrey**

Little Whinging would be described by most as well-off, filled with high-middle class families who liked to think themselves better than everyone; Even those who clearly made more than they. To the residents in Little Whinging: The poor were too poor and the rich were too rich. It was an odd way of thinking and living but its what made their whole worlds go round. They were very much content in making the shape of their shrubs the most important aspect of their existence. That was the only unique thing about each house. The gardens; Oh how beautiful they could get! It just so happened that there were contests on a yearly basis for the best gardens in Little Whinging.

Despite having only lived in Little Whinging for little more than a year; she had one consecutively for three years in-a-row now and if it had not had been for future events, she would have gone on to win a few more years. What might think, had they not known the Dursleys, that they were hard-working people who were very much classy and good influences on the whole village. But those people would be naive. It was very well known that for some reason the Dursley's nephew worked daily on their garden and was somehow able to surpass the work of the self-proclaimed gardening experts that neighbored the Dursleys.

Petunia Dursley lifted not a finger to help her nephew. She didn't need to. He was able to do it on his own. Her nephew, Harry, had often won her sympathy points and even one of their village's "Mother of Little Whinging" award which was hardly an award as much as it was a gloat. According to her, she had dutifully taken in her beloved nephew and he had found a love of gardening and their lives had never been better. This couldn't be farther from accuracy. Not only did Petunia wish to be rid of her nephew, she forced him to garden. And if she had even a little less sense than she already did, she would have allowed her neighbors to use her nephew for their own gardens (which they had begged for).

But it just so happened, Petunia had enough wit about her to know that if she gave over her secret ingredient, bye-bye titles and awards. Petunia was a woman of thirty-six years and she looked much older than that despite her attempts of re:dyeing her hair a wheat-colored blonde and caking loads of foundation onto her face as if that could really hide the wrinkles beginning to form. Her lips were usually painted in a shade of light orange-red or, sometimes, just red. Never anything darker for that was not the style. It had to be bold, it had to be vibrant. Now, Petunia was a rather traditional woman. She stayed home and took care of her son, she listened to her husband, and she went to church every Wednesday and Sunday, but even she liked to dabble in the modern fashion styles. Her dresses had a habit of being shoulder-padded and covered in floral design and her heels never went above three inches. It wasn't her fault that almost everything seemed to extend her neck, making her look like a much shorter giraffe or that her lips were often flat, not due to her irritation, but due to genetics. Her face was fish-like.

One would have never guessed that she was related to a pretty thing such as her sister, Lily. Now Lily was dead and she was the only sister remaining so it was unlikely anyone from Little Whinging would be able to guess what Lily looked like. And had it not been for Harry, Petunia would have been very comfortable not telling anyone she had a sister at all. Unfortunately, she had Harry.

Now Harry had come to her in a basket on the eve of Halloween, October 31st (just in case you didn't know). She hadn't discovered him until early November morning, when she went outside to collect the milk. She had yelped of course at the sight of the baby and had, for a tad moment, been rather sad and pitied the poor thing. However, it didn't take long for Harry to open his eyes and reveal to her a beautiful emerald shade of green. A familiar shade of green that Petunia knew all too well. It had been her sister's eye color. And Petunia had spent far too long of her teenage years envying her sister's eye color for Petunia hated her dreaded hazel. She had made sure to marry a man with light blue eyes (and to her greatest wishes and dreams she had borne a son with the same color of eyes as her husband's).

She had reluctantly brought him, having been worried about him being seen by anyone. And perhaps she could have conjured up a rather sad tale that made her seem the hero. And she had. She was able to. It wasn't difficult. She had found all she needed in the letter that had been sent with him. She would take care of him, not that she wanted to, no, this was an order. And when Vernon had asked if they could drop him off at an orphanage all those years ago (specifically ten), she had broken down and confessed her sister's freakishness and how her nephew would be the same as she too had been.

Of course, he hadn't understood at first and thought his wife near crazy until she had demanded that whoever was watching them, show themselves, and explain to her husband what they were. Oh, she had known they had been watching. The letter had said so. And they had, a man had popped out of the shadows, and once all was said and done, he had been ordered to leave the house. Oh, it had been terrible. Petunia had cried and told Vernon that she knew he would leave her, she just wished for some supplies is all. He had taken her from the ground, because she had dropped to her knees and begged for forgiveness, and had held her and said everything would be alright. And if she hadn't loved him before, she had certainly decided to love him then.

The boy, Harry Potter, was magic. It was how he was able to grow such beautifully smelling flowers and cut the shrubs at just the right length, though he didn't know it. Petunia had never told her nephew of his heritage and perhaps that would become her downfall. He just had some sort of influence that Petunia knew she would never have and no matter how much she degraded his magic into nothing but a freakish ability; Her heart still yearned for just a taste of that delicious power. She could see him now, in the present, just by looking out the kitchen window. She could see the way the sweat rolled down his tanned face, how his glasses would slip down his nose, and how he trimmed. Clip. Clip. Clip.

He would be forced to do this for hour upon hour. Often, he was unable to finish his homework. Despite this, he held, near perfect grades in all of his classes. It was infuriating. Petunia would have killed for those types of grades. She wasn't terrible at school; Oh goodness no, her parents would have punished her severely if she made anything below a C. But he was like his mother, he took to the academia like a fish to water. He loved to learn. One half of Petunia hated herself for doing this to him. She knew it was petty. She was knew wasn't really a freak and that he could do wonderful things. She knew she was a villain. It just so happened that that side of her was far from being dominant. She often squashed those thoughts back, deep into her mind where she liked to pretend to forget about them.

Eventually after two hours of work and after two hours of pitying herself. She found herself at her door, looking at him. "Boy!" She called sharply. He looked up, his cheeks burned and sweaty. "You've done enough! I need you to start preparing dinner!" It was near 4 o'clock and soon she would have to call the Polkis Residence and inform Amanda that it was time for Dudley to come home. "I want you to make spaghetti!"

Harry gathered his tools and placed them inside the small shed out back. He then made his way inside. He sniffed at himself and looked at his Aunt Petunia who had seated herself on the sofa and had picked up her knitting. "Aunt Petunia, would you like me to shower first?"

She frowned and then nodded curtly. She said no words. He knew her thoughts.

If anyone asked Harry if he thought he was a freak. He would reply that yes, he was. Strange things happened around him and Harry had come to associate this with just being him. And it wouldn't be wrong. Once, when a kid that wasn't Dudley, had tried to push him around. It was on one of those days when Dudley had been sick and they had been younger, around seven, and kids had yet to really place Dudley and Harry's name together for the two boys didn't look alike, they didn't hang out together, and when they were found together, Harry was being bullied by Dudley. It just so happened a nine-year-old bully by the name of Davey had caught onto that and had decided he would be needing a new victim. This had been the only incident that had turned out well.

He was a scrawny kid who probably wouldn't grow higher than 5'8 (and that was an at most, by the way) and his metabolism was rapid, making him seem much more malnourished than he already was. His hair was black. Not like brown-black, but black-black as in ink-colored black. And due to the bullying from one other candidate, he wore glasses that had suffered a long life. Tape covered both the center and the two ends. Yet, his prescription still worked. Or at least, Harry thought it did. He couldn't really tell to-be-honest.

And although this had made him out to be a good target for all bullies, he had mostly had the one, his cousin, Dudley. It had only taken Davey one time to know that Harry was not to be messed with by anyone else other than his cousin. It was odd, yes, to put up with it, especially since Harry had realized that life was seemingly out to get him. He was an orphan, he had a terribly mean aunt and uncle, he had just as awful eyesight, and he was bullied! Like seriously, it was like Harry was made to be the butt of the world's joke.

But not that time.

No, when Davey had come up to him at recess, demanding that Harry give him his book. Harry was quite the avid reader and was particularly fond of Roald Dahl. It just so happened the book in his hands had been "Matilda". Davey was a short kid, like Harry, but he had been short for a nine-year-old which meant he had been a beast compared to Harry but he was stupid. A stupid kid. So stupid he hadn't realized how ironic the situation had been. It was a library book and Harry knew that if Davey could get away with it, he would tear up the book and blame it on Harry. Davey could absolutely get away with it: that was the issue. There were few teachers who cared enough to look up from their own books to help out the tiny kids.

When Harry had, of course, denied him; Davey had taken the book from his hands. Or rather, he tried to. It just so happened Harry had felt the tingling sensation spread through his fingers and Davey was suddenly pushed roughly to the ground, seemingly out of nowhere. And of course, Harry had been spotted by one of the few teachers.

"Hey!" She had cried, roughly placing down her book. "You over there! Come here!"

Davey had started crying, having hit his head roughly on the ground. Harry made sure to grasp the book tightly before walking over towards the teacher. He had known his uncle would punish him severely for this. Or so he had thought. It just so happened that when parents were called Aunt Petunia had screamed and raged, but Uncle Vernon had been rather proud. But only because it just so happened to be Mr. James Newport's child, one of Uncle Vernon's most ranted-about, hated co-workers who lived a few streets down from Privet Drive. Harry had been given just a little more food that night. That was the only time Uncle Vernon had shown an ounce of affection for Harry but being the desperate boy he was, Harry gladly took that affection up. It was more than he had ever gotten in that seven years of life.

That was the most violent his freakishness had ever gotten. The other things were small, almost undetectable things. One time, he had made his teacher's chair fall apart. He didn't know he had done it. But Harry knew it had been himself. He had been rather angry at her for praising Dudley when she should have been praising him. She had forced them to team up together to work on a book project which of course meant that only Harry had to work on it. She knew that. But she had been bribed by Aunt Petunia to push him down as much as possible. They were knitting buddies, the two of them were.

As he was walking up the stairs, headed for the bathroom. He felt it. They all did. It started out as a light tremble but then it began to really shake. The walls rumbled and Harry could feel himself slip down the stairs, his feet being shaken out from under him. He could hear the sound of crashing of objects as he fell back. His arms spread as he forced himself to twist around. The ground came at a fast rate and it was shaking constantly. He wasn't just having some sort of seizure. He hit the ground, his hands spread out before him, trying to guard his face. He landed roughly. But as his arms went slightly numb, he didn't think he broke anything.

He heard Aunt Petunia scream. Things were falling. Plates were crashing to the ground. An Earthquake? Harry had never experienced an earthquake before. Well, he now had and it was awful. Harry would never be able to properly explain to you what it felt like. It was as if the Earth was ripping itself apart. Something crashed. Something heavy. His head was just out enough to see his Aunt's whimpering form. The fire-place. The bricks had cracked all the way through. The windows were breaking. He didn't even know that could happen. The foundation itself was literally falling apart.

Then it stopped. And they were surrounded in destruction. Cracks lined the house and they could only imagine what it looked like outside. "Aunt Petunia!" He cried out weakly as he shakily pulled himself to his knees and then his feet. Oh God, he could barely walk. He felt so light-headed. "Are you...alright?" He heaved and shut his eyes and then opened them, blinking heavily.

His arms still felt numb.

She looked up and then gasped. "Boy. What happened to your arms!"

He looked down and then gulped. They were all crooked and he knew it should have been hurting but he felt next to nothing. "I-I I fell down the stairs. I didn't- What was that, Aunt Petunia?"

"An-An Earthquake, I believe." She looked around their house, her eyes were watering up as she looked at the destruction of her home. She pushed herself off the sofa. She motioned to him. "We have to get you to the hospital. I can't have your arms looking like that." He followed her. He knew her reasons for bringing him to the hospital. It was because she had to, not because she wanted to.

She let out a pained shudder. She had been physically uninjured but she had lived in this house for over a decade of her life and her heart was quite badly ripped in two. When they had stepped outside the door, which had been lifted off its hinges and they only had to pull on it for it to begin to fall backwards had it not been for Petunia's quick shove. It fell outwardly. She paused and then turned her head. "Did you do it?" She demanded.

"What?" Harry narrowed his eyes. "How could I do this?"

She bit her lip and then turned her head. "Never mind. Get in the ca-"

It had rolled out into the street and into another car. She looked around for the nearest car, for the nearest house with someone that could help.

Harry twitched. The back of his neck seemed to tickle as he walked behind Aunt Petunia who was borderline having a panic attack. This was the worst she had ever seen her village. And she knew that there was no way Vernon would allow them to stay there. Cracks formed on their driveway and through their road, not-so-deep cracks but it showed how strong it was.

They would later learn that it would scale 7.3 on the Ritchter Scale. The largest ever recorded in the British Isles. Other houses seemed to have suffered more damage than the Dursley's house did. Someone's house had completely caved in. They would also learn later that they weren't excluded. The part of the roof in the attic had caved in and so did some of the Dudley's room.

Harry couldn't even move his arms. He had no idea how he was able to push himself up but now that he looked at them, at how malformed they were. He cringed. There was no bone exposure, luckily, or else he knew he would have puked. But they were both twisted at odd angles. He could only imagine how harsh the mockery would become after placing the both of his arms in casts.

He looked around, almost as if expecting something to pop out.

He found himself drawn to the back of the house; to assess the damage there. The tingling got even greater. He wanted to rub the back of his neck but he could do nothing. He inhaled sharply at the damage. The few trees that had been back here had all fallen over each other, but that wasn't the surprising part. It was the absolutely massive crack that was at the back of the house. It exposed even greater damage. Their house had begun to fall apart from the sides. Bricks had fallen over, revealing the kitchen and the second bathroom and even a little bit of his cupboard.

But the ridge exposed was black and Harry found himself daring to look into it. There didn't seem to be an end. He looked around. They would have to move. He felt the tickling in his neck become stronger before he turned and he froze. Standing in the shadows of the broken and bent trees was a large, black monstrous looking thing. Tentacles seemed to swirl out, the darkness grasping at the air, but it wasn't invisible or gas or anything like that. It was a physical thing. The scales seemed to line its skin and it would have looked face less had it not opened its mouth and a dark purple tongue came swirling out, almost sniffing at the air. It couldn't have been any taller than Harry but then he saw its hands and he knew that it wasn't height that mattered. It was the sharp, black claws at the end of its hands. He took a step back, away from the thing and away from the hole. It turned its head sharply.

And then it took a dash and Harry let out a yell as he stumbled back, closing his eyes off.

"STUPEFY!" Came a loud voice from the side of Harry. A red beam came from that area and it rammed straight into the chest of the running beast. It fell to the ground, growling. It was only a few feet in front of Harry. "Come over here, boy! Behind me!" Harry found himself looking at a tall black man wearing some weird dress. A robe, maybe? He was holding a stick firmly in his hand and he was breathing heavily. When had he got there? Harry had never seen this man in Little Whinging before. It wasn't like he wouldn't stand out. He certainly looked a character.

Harry took off and found himself behind a rather tall mountain of a man. He trusted him. Harry knew he had saved his life. That was more than what most people had done for Harry and for as far as he could remember, that was the most anyone had ever done for Harry. The thing in front of them slowly got up, shaking off whatever had been placed over it. It was as if it had been momentarily stunned.

The man cursed. "That should have lasted longer." He muttered. "Stupefy!" He said it again and another red beam flashed. He looked at Harry. "We have little time. Grab onto me!"

"I- I can't! My arms- I fell down the stairs! And my aunt-"

The man looked down and his eyes dramatically widened. But he grasped onto Harry's shoulder as lightly as possible and Harry looked at the man and then at the thing behind him. It was still but Harry knew it would move soon. And he cared not for Aunt Petunia. Then he felt something heavy press into him. Like a punch in the stomach and he only had to blink and then he felt the air get sucked out of his lungs.

He opened his eyes. The man's hand was still on his shoulder but they were nowhere near where they had been. Or at least, Harry thought that. They were certainly in a different room. They were in an office. He looked up at the man, questions pouring out his mouth: "Who are you? What was that? Where are we?" The very standard ones.

The man sighed and knelt down. His eyes growing kinder with each foot he knelt. His hand didn't move. "Mr. Potter, my name is Kingsley Shacklebot and I am here to protect you. What that was? I have no idea. But that is a second concern compared to your poor arms. You fell down the stairs, you said?"

"Yes sir, during the Earthquake."

"Lucky for you, we're in a good place that can help fix you up. Hogwarts, School for Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Harry opened his mouth to speak but found he didn't have anything to say. Wizardry? He had always been rather weird and he did weird things. His aunt and uncle hated the word magic. If they had actually read "Matilda", they would have let him within a mile of it. He looked around the room they were in. There was a big desk in front of it and then his eyes widened as he saw a large orange-red bird (the same shade as his aunt's lipstick) perched on a perch, sleeping, its beak nuzzled underneath its wing.

The door seemed to boom open.

"Do you have him, Kingsley?" Came a stern, old sounding voice. It belonged to a man that certainly looked that way. He looked as all grandfathers shoulder and he wore a set of blue robes. His beard seemed to drift down to his thighs and his hair just under his shoulders. He wore a pair of glasses and he had the bluest eyes Harry had ever seen. He took one look at Harry. "Oh dear." He mentioned softly. "Come now, we have to take you to the healing ward. Madam Pomfrey can fix your arms."

"Fix my arms? But with what? I have to go to a hospital?"

"Hmm...Magic, I suppose." The man mentioned almost funnily but he shared at look with Kingsley and Harry knew that there was something darker going on.


	2. The Healing of Harry Potter

Welcome to another chapter of Cracked! I had a good time writing this today so I really hope you'll enjoy it. Thank you so much for the 4 favorites and the 7 followers! I wanted to clarify that the warning down below is a very broad statement that will be used simply so I don't spoil the story that much. I know a lot of people who do that which I really don't like so I didn't want to give out everything. It doesn't necessarily mean anything.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the fandoms I write in. Whilst this is a multi-verse fanfiction, I got inspired by Pacific Rim and Kingdom Hearts (thus they will not be present in this fanfiction). I am an American writer thus there will be Americanisms. I thought I would try to write one of those "Gary-Stu" fanfictions that either everyone hates or loves. Along with an obvious HarryXMulti pairing as you know those tropes go together so brilliantly. I will try my best not to make it too terrible, however.

 **Warnings:** This fanfiction will feature graphic content of violent, sexual, and twisted natures.

 **Shatter World, Book 1: Cracked**

 **Chapter 2: The Healing of Harry Potter**

The room smelled of medicine and of a subtle cleanliness and neither of those were vague scents; they were actually quite strong and they made Harry's nose sting. He scrunched his nose up as he looked at the woman. They had called her Madam Pomfrey; they being the old man who had later introduced himself as Headmaster Dumbledore and the other man who had declared that he was Kingsley Shacklebolt; for some reason Kingsley had to protect Harry.

Not that Harry wasn't greatly. Heavens no! He was completely the opposite. He was very grateful, albeit confused. Why would the man save Harry of all people? Why not his aunt. Why had they just abandoned Aunt Petunia? What was that thing? Harry had a feeling his answers would either come soon or not at all. The woman held a vial in one hand and her stick in the other. "Now, Harry dear, this'll be the easy part." She exclaimed some indistinguishable word and Harry felt a slight buzzing sensation overcome him, but that was all. "Just for extra measure," she added. "So that the bones'll grow back perfectly."

She then held out the vial to Harry, "You'll have to drink that to grow the bone. And sadly, it isn't the most painless thing. But don't worry, it'll be over before you know it." Despite her kind face, Harry felt a shiver go down his spine. He didn't know why he felt at comfort with these people. And with that old man laying down one major hint. Magic. Could this be magic? Harry could believe it.

His aunt and uncle had been completely against the concept of even stating the word and while they had blamed it on religious reasons; they didn't even say their prayers before dinner. And Harry knew that was a common thing because one girl had gasped when he asked what she was doing during lunch time. She had proceeded to criticize him and speak of Jesus. It had been a rough day that day. He smelled the vial. It absolutely reeked.

She kept it out expectantly. "Come on dear, it isn't so bad." She coaxed him and finally he opened his mouth and tried his best to clear his throat in favor of not tasting anything at all. It tasted absolutely vial. Like mucus and slugs and trust Harry; it did not go down easy. He swallowed it like a baby gulping milk. Within the minute, he could feel something in his arms. His eyes widened. "It's fix-" His voice stopped as he felt something pop painfully in his arms. Have you ever popped your back? Well imagine that feeling times ten and the sound times a hundred. His eyes grew big as if they were about to pop out of his tiny head. They watered up and Madam Pomfrey watched him with pity in her eyes. She was right though. It ended soon.

And Harry could move his arms, although they felt incredibly sore. She began to say something had it not been for the naturally booming voice. "Harry, my boy! I have much to speak with you about." Headmaster Dumbledore walked alongside Kingsley and his walk seemed slower than his voice as it took him a second too long to get to Harry. It was kind of awkward silence.

The older man, his eyes twinkling, sat on Harry's bed, next to the young boy. Kingsley remained standing. "I heard about the creature."

"The creature?"

"Yes, the creature. I am so sorry you had to face that thing on your lonesome until of course, Kingsley here, saved your life."

Harry looked at the silent man. "Thank you for that. I don't know what I would have done without you." Kingsley bowed his head in respect. He looked back at Headmaster Dumbledore. "What was that thing, sir?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"No. No one does. It might be an exotically rare, yet dangerous creature whose nest was disturbed by the Earthquake; it doesn't seem to be anything more than that." Headmaster Dumbledore looked to Kingsley: "You say you were able to stun it."

"Yes sir; twice."

"Good. We'll have to inform the ministry of such a thing. Though I doubt that would be the first thing on their minds. We have to organize a cover story for you Kingsley."

For a moment, it seemed, the two men seemed to forget about Harry's existence. He didn't mind. He liked listening. He seemed to get more answers from that than answering questions. But a cover story? Why would they need a cover story. "Arabella lives on Privet Drive-" that made Harry pause. Arabella Figg? If so, he knew her. Very well. She was his favorite babysitter. She was the one who allowed him to borrow a few books, who had introduced him to Roald Dahl. He had stayed with her for a week and half before due to the Dursleys vacations every other summer. Of course, they would never let Harry come.

"Arabella? Arabella Figg, Headmaster?"

"Why yes. She was in the old order, remember? Just briefly of course, didn't want the poor woman to be killed. But she was able to hold a much greater purpose." Headmaster Dumbledore glanced at Harry. "Didn't she take care of your for a few weeks, Harry."

"Probably more than that, sir. She was my favorite babysitter. Was she...magic too?"

"I'm so happy you caught onto that! So smart! You know that wasn't the only thing you caught from your mother. You have her eyes: such a vivid green; unforgettable really." He looked so closely at Harry that Harry felt such an instinctive need to back away. "But other than that, my dear boy, you look like your father. Although you're much more tanned than he was when he was eleven. A sport's lover, hmm?"

"No- I-uh- I garden."

"Garden? Well, here at Hogwarts, we have Herbology, which might suit your green thumb if you wish. Your mother would be very proud. She liked to garden too." Harry didn't feel like telling the man that he didn't like to garden as much as he was forced to do it. Now he barely cared about it anymore, it was just a time in his day, a minute that which he wasted his life perfectly trimming a plant. Then he paused: "Hogwarts, sir? I'll be going to Hogwarts."

"Yes! Sometime this September and had it not been for unconventional circumstances, you would have received a letter telling you of your admittance for you are a wizard Harry. You have magic and you have to learn how to use that magic."

"My aunt and uncle would never allow me to come here." Harry said mournfully.

"Well good thing that they don't have a choice on whether or not you come here. You are magical, Harry, so thus you deserve a magical education. Besides that, I have come to the decision that it is no longer safe for either you or your family, especially in that area. In fact, I have already detailed a letter telling your family of your whereabouts. And hopefully we can come to an agreement."

"But why?"

This question didn't shock Albus. "Well, because Harry your home isn't safe anymore. We have no idea how long that creature has resided there, how strange or dangerous it is, and we just need you to-"

"No. But why would you send me back to them! You just said I belonged here."

Albus froze and then tried to ease his words through softly. "You do belong here, but you also belong with your family. They love you."

"No they don-"

"Nonsense. They do." Albus was firm at this but the twinkle in his eyes disappeared. He wasn't a stupid man, he was actually regarded as very intelligent. But Harry needed to stay with his aunt. He needed to. This was of the utmost importance.

Harry looked down at his newly fixed hands. Nobody believed him. Everyone believed the Dursleys. He just wanted to cry. But he didn't. He didn't cry. He was taught not to cry.

Kingsley looked at Dumbledore with confusion in his eyes. It was very obvious that Harry Potter was distressed. He could just be poor boy wanting the affection of parents, which some aunts and uncles were unwilling to give, but that was still an issue. Kingsley hadn't been the one to watch over Harry for the most of his life. But he had showed up due to Dumbledore's urgent patronus. He had been the closest nearby and the only one available at the time. He had been lucky to hold the thing back. It was unnerving how quick the thing had been able to shake the stupefy, but luckily, it was enough time to get away. He said nothing. Dumbledore had to know what he was doing. He had to. But that didn't shake the feeling of distraught he felt when looking at the pitifully sad, young boy.

"Now Harry; I presume your aunt and uncle are here now…"  
"Now? But we just got here? How did they-"

"Magic! You'll learn throughout your stay here. I might as well not spoil it. Learning is part of the experience after all. Now we must go greet them; I'm sure they're very worried."

Madam Pomfrey had yet to disappear from the room and she stayed behind, a concerned look in her eyes. As a registered healer, especially for school children, she saw that terrified, hopeful faze often and it made her sick to know her own employer was ignoring it. Oh, she knew he knew. He had helped other children before. And what made Harry Potter so different than other children? If anything his status of savior should have made him get better treatment than most. "Actually, Headmaster, I need Harry to stay behind. The damage to his arms was rough and I'm sure he wishes to rest."

"Oh- well of course Madam Pomfrey. Sorry, my boy, I forget that it is not just us old people who tire. I'll make sure to your aunt and uncle your way. As I said, I'm sure they're very worried about you." It was so utterly sugar-coated, it was a surprise that the only person who caught on was Madam Pomfrey herself. Perhaps it was because she was dismissed as the background or it may have been because she had worked here for so long and knew how Dumbledore acted but she knew it was false. He was lying behind his teeth. She knew about the Order of the Phoenix and during her late youth (for she was only in her mid-thirties), she had considered joining it; having been offered by Dumbledore herself, but she had denied having reconsidered. Madam Pomfrey was not a fan of violence.

She watched as the two men walked away, headed towards Dumbledore's office. She looked at Harry. "Do you feel better? Do your arms hurt?" She crept closer, wanting to pull him into her arms and hug the mess out of him.

"I suppose so." He seemed to flex his arms. "And no, they don't hurt anymore. Well- They're just a little sore to be honest, but nothing more than that."

"That's good. It means the potion worked."  
"Potion? Oh."

"It's a bit daunting isn't it? I'm sure you aunt and uncle told you lots about magic-"

"They didn't." He muttered. "They're normal."

"Normal? Well, I suppose that's a way to put it. But don't ever think of yourself as lesser than, Harry. You're normal too. Just a different normal. You're magic and we call them muggles." She couldn't help it, but she placed her hand on his shoulders and looked at it with a great warmness in her face. "Do they tell you that you're not normal?"

"They've called me freak." And then it all spilled out. All of it. Every mean thing his Aunt Petunia may have uttered or muttered or said with viciousness came pouring out of his mouth. Not a tear dropped from his eye for this was life. An upsetting life. But once you've lived in sorrow for what seemed to be all ten years of your existence; is it really sorrow anymore? Can you feel the difference between sadness and happiness? Harry surely didn't. He felt contentedness, yes, but that was hardly happiness.

Madam Pomfrey felt her own eyes water up. To think that their savior had been treated so cruelly, so miserably was disgusting to her. To have any child treated with such abuse was horrid and would have been drastically punished in the Wizarding World. He had lived a life he shouldn't have lived. And when he had spoken of an equally awful fact: Harry Potter lived in a cupboard. He ate in the kitchen, not with his family.

And as she said this: she knew what she had to do. She knew how Dumbledore would pretend to listen to her concerns but not do anything about them. Because he had a plan. He always had a plan. But this one was unacceptable. She looked at the fireplace in the healing ward. It was unlit of course but it would be very simple to floo to the ministry and call for a trial. If could be wrong but Madam Pomfrey had a suspicion that it was not. She had known Harry Potter for not even half an hour but even she could tell that he was an earnest kid, truthful and honest and innocent, no matter the terrible things that had supposedly happened to him.

"Wait here. I have to set something up." She walked over to the fireplace. She pulled out her wand and waved it. "Confringo." A small flame bursted out of her wand, causing Harry to flinch, and into the fire place. It lit up nice and brightly. A small pot of floo powder naturally opened up.

"A fire?" Harry peered curiously. "In June?"

She turned to Harry. "Do you want to be away from your aunt and uncle?"

"I- Yes." He hung his head down in shame.

"Don't be upset. If what you tell me is true, then they do not deserve you. And I cannot, as a healer and as a teacher, let you go with those two if they have done as you say."

"But Headmaster Dumbledore said-"  
"What he says and what he thinks are two different things." She said this almost blankly, as if realizing that she was going against her employer. He couldn't make her leave. It would look bad on his part and she would look the hero. Not that this was what it was about. No, it was much more than that. No child deserved to be treated with spite and hate. Not a single one, no matter how spoiled or how irritating, they were children and didn't know any better; innocent. "And it would do you best to learn such. Come here. We need to leave and quickly."

In the Headmaster's office, a woman sat at her seat. This woman was Petunia Dursley and boy did she not look happy. Her face was firmly placed in a frown. The moment she saw Dumbledore enter the room, she jumped to her feet. Her hands waving about, a letter had already been crumpled to the ground. One moment she had been looking for her nephew, she had found a man who would be willing to drive them to the hospital and the next a letter had been dropped into her hands and at first contact, she had been transported into this damned office.

"How dare you!" She yelled. "How dare you transport me here without my consent! I could sue you-"

"It's almost as if you do not wish to see your nephew again." The Headmaster spoke in a soft, calm voice filled with conjured up wisdom. "He is in our healing ward. His arms were bent and broken."

"He fell down the stairs." She bit out. "During the Earthquake, which I'm sure your kind called."

"Wizards can do all sorts of things, but control the weather is hardly one of them. Not even Merlin could have done such. Did he really fall down the stairs, Petunia?"  
"Of course. I would never outright harm the boy."

"Oh, you wouldn't? So explain to me how on Earth, he is a quivering mess who wishes anything but to go home!" His voice began to bellow. Petunia would get the point and readily take back Harry and then his nerves could be soothed. Yes, that would end up well and good. And Harry would be safe until the time came for him to really face Voldemort.

"We treat the boy as he should be treated. We house him, we feed him, we bathe him, we take care of all of his base needs. But we do not love him and we are unafraid to speak out mind about his freakishness and to be honest with you, I have no wish to take the boy in any longer!" She shouted. "He has caused far more problems than he has luck."

"Freakishness-" They were interrupted by the Kingsley, who had sat silent, but the anger had been building. "You call the savior of the Wizarding World, freakish! Dumbledore, how could you let such a woman take care of him?"

"Excuuuse me," she started, her face turning a healthy shade of strawberry red. "But I am a woman of class and standards! Most wouldn't even dare take the boy in. Not that I wanted to. You forced me, threatened me, and I am no longer young. I know my rights and I know I don't have to take care of him."

"Petunia think of it. You're in far more danger than you think-"

"-Am I really? Or you just saying things? If you force me to house him, I won't take it any longer. I will tell someone. I know you have authorities in your realm and I know you're not the highest of them-"

"He is actually-"

"Fine." Albus said this was as much resistance as possible. He was in front of Kingsley. He couldn't do anything that Kingsley would see. He might have been the greatest duelist of his time but he was old. He was getting slow and with Kingsley as honorable and as powerful as he was, Dumbledore did not wish to risk his ire or hate. He hated the Oblivious curse. He didn't like using it. He preferred to get things done by talking. He would have to find a different home for Harry James Potter. He just didn't know who. "Kingsley," he said. "Take her to her home."

Kingsley looked at him but then nodded. "Of course. Do you want me to come back-"

"No. We need an alibi. Stay there and help out. Tell Arabella Figg of what has happened." What Dumbledore didn't know was that right this minute a very stressed healer was talking to a rather concerned Minister of Magic. And that tomorrow's headline would be: "WIZARDING SAVIOR, HARRY POTTER, FOUND! ABUSED AND NEGLECTED BY FAMILY!"


	3. The Power of the Ministry

100 views! Which is kind of crazy seeing as how I posted this yesterday. But 7 favorites and 11 followers! That's awesome. That's a lot more than yesterday. I still kind of want some reviews. It would be nice to see how I could change or not, but it's not my main priority. I'm just glad people are liking enough to favorite/follow.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the fandoms I write in. Whilst this is a multi-verse fanfiction, I got inspired by Pacific Rim and Kingdom Hearts (thus they will not be present in this fanfiction). I am an American writer thus there will be Americanisms. I thought I would try to write one of those "Gary-Stu" fanfictions that either everyone hates or loves. Along with an obvious HarryXMulti pairing as you know those tropes go together so brilliantly. I will try my best not to make it too terrible, however.

 **Warnings:** This fanfiction will feature graphic content of violent, sexual, and twisted natures.

 **Shatter World, Book 1: Cracked**

 **Chapter 3: The Power of the** **Ministry**

It sniffed. It crawled. It couldn't see. Oh but it could smell. It could smell the boy. His scent was so distinct. But it knew. It knew that wherever the boy had been, he was gone now. How it wanted the boy. It had been sent just for him. Its whispery tentacles drifted along the ground and akin to a snake's tongue, felt and sniffed the ground. This was its vision. This was its sight and nose for it only had a mouth that could taste. It could taste the humidity. It could taste the humanity.

That man. He had stunned him with that stick thing. A red beam had spun out and there was nothing it could do but accepts its fate. It had been bigger than the boy. But it had been so long since its kind had seen mankind. Since they had faced them thousands upon thousands of centuries ago. But they had awoken and this time it would be permanent. This time their darkness would feast upon the world, taking all within it, sneaking through the cracks and emptying out every cranny.

It scurried across the ground. Quickly, fastly; It was blind. It knew not where it was going but where it went the traces of death followed. Behind it was a trail of blackened grass; all life having been sucked out of them. Its stomach did the equivalent of rumbling and its ears spiked up. He could hear distinctly the sound of voices. Human voices in a language it had never heard before. It looked back at the abyss that had cracked through the plethora of broken trees. More would come soon. More darkness would come from the breaks of the world and soon...Soon it would no longer be alone.

Piers Polkis and his best friend, Dudley Dursley, were walking down the road. Their sneakers thudded across the road with a solemn tapping sound. They did this without fear of cars for the earthquake had seemingly crashed every other car around. But Piers's mother had been frantic when she was unable to call anyone and had ordered that Piers and Dudley were to go to the Dursley house and inform Mrs. Dursley that her son was safe. And if she wasn't safe or she was injured; they could get her to safety.

Dudley was sweating through his shirt. Piers looked at him curiously. "Do you think your cousin is okay?"

"My cousin? Oh, Harry, yeah, I'm sure he's fine." Dudley muttered. "It's me mum I'm more worried about. Dad says she delicate."

"Your mother is as thin as stick; I'd say delicate is accurate."

"Are you calling me fat?"

Piers assessed the damage control. "No of course not, Dud-"

"I'm just jokin', Piers."

The two boys froze when they first saw state of the Dursely house. "Oh man." Dudley said. "Oh man, oh man, oh man." He ran up. Everything jiggled but he didn't care. Was his mum okay? Was she even alive. The rocks had begun to focus in on their weight and the brick had begun to fall apart and some of the roof had caved in. But as he was running, as his tennis shoes scraped across the broken asphalt. Something grabbed at his legs and at first he blamed it on the cracks. He had tripped. Or so he thought, but he realized as he fell straight onto the broken and jagged rock, that he was falling back. He was being dragged. Something slithered into his leg and he wasn't afraid to scream.

Piers stared on not even ten feet behind. He saw it. He saw the blackness rise up. It couldn't have been any taller than he was. But it was black and scaly, things were slithering through Dudley's pants. And he saw as red welts were left behind. "Let me go!" Dudley yelled and he looked behind and let out another scream. "Let go!"

Piers began to walk back and then it was a run. He left the bravery up to Dudley. Piers was a cowardly rat. He had always been like this. He wasn't going to face a creature like that. And behind him, the creature fed. Its hand, filled with razory sharp claws, dug into the skin, and soon the tentacles seemed to flower open as they got closer and closer to the heart and they dug into the skin. Not letting one sip of crimson escape. There were not yet that many police, but he was sure he could find someone.

"Earlier this morning; Tragedy occurred not just in one instance but in two. The United Kingdom's deadliest earthquake struck hardest in Surrey which is leaving scientists confused on how such an Earthquake came without notice. The Earthquake was felt in its neighboring counties of West and East Sussex and London; as well as Kent. Over dozens of people have been killed and many are still being dug out of their homes. So far we have estimated at around sixty-two people to have been killed and over seven hundred injured; Many are in intensive care". The Newswoman's cheeks were marred by streaks of black mascara as she breathed heavily. It was very unprofessional but not uncalled for. Many sympathized with her for this had been their strongest national disaster since many could even remember. Those heart-breaking words struck not just the people in the studio, but to the people in their homes, watching the telly with a look of horror on their eyes. But the English society was not the only one injured and hurt and devastated.

Wizards and Witches alike looked at the destroyed buildings on their homes and villages. It had hit Diagon Alley not with as much aggressiveness but still damage had been done. Many of the older, unprotected buildings had caved in. But the Ministry and Gringotts had stayed firm. They were the two oldest buildings in Diagon Alley and as such; they were protected by far more, far older magics that most didn't bother placing on their stores. After all, Britain didn't suffer from that many Earthquakes. A few. But they had never been so bad, so deadly, so destructive as this one had been. Aurors, a form of wizarding police, were helping victims. Magicals healers were already few and now they were stretched out trying to help people to the only magical hospital in Magical Britain; St. Mungos.

"Where is the Minister?" One woman cried: She was a older woman, blind in her left eye, but she was uninjured. It was safe to say that supported her minister in everything he did which is why she was wondering why the doors to the Ministry of Magic did not open. She looked at them eagerly.

An older man looked at her: There was a wand gripped in his hand and from the way he was dressed, it was obvious he was an auror. "I have to ask you to stand down, Ms. We can't have people wondering about. Not in this climate." This man was Auror Alastor Moody and he was wondering the same thing as she; just not in the same terms. He thought his own Minister was a buffoon, a silly man with nice words and a weak backbone; controllable by anyone who paid him enough. He was the head of his department and he nodded at one of the other men. "I trust you to take care of this. I need to go check on our minister." By that, he mostly meant he was going to try and drag the man from his office. Perhaps get him at least to pretend to care about the men and women who suffered from outside of the Ministry.

The Ministry itself was hardly accessible to the muggles. Or rather anyone who wasn't in it. There was an entrance in London, more specifically, a modified portkey. The great building was far from Gringotts but as of now, with the crushed atmosphere, it was like a beacon of light. Inside of it, all things were hectic. Auror Moody pushed into the building as discreetly as possible; not wanting to cause a mob or stampede of people trying to get into the place. People were rushing about. Employees would have to work overtime for months, maybe even years if the damage was bad enough. Auror Moody made sure to find his way into the Minister's office. He knocked on the door. Nothing could be heard. There was a silencing charm on the room so that people couldn't hear the Minister's private conversations. But the Minister could hear him. "Minister Fudge, it is I, Auror Moody; Head of the Auror Department."

The door opened but he was faced with a much more different sight. Two people sat in front of the Minister's office. He saw Madam Poppy Pomfrey, the healing witch of Hogwarts, but beside her was a small boy with a mop of shaggy black hair and crooked glasses. Auror Moody held his gasp when he saw the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. "My word: Is that Harry Potter?"

The boy looked up. And even without the scar, Auror Moody could have guessed who he was for the boy looked like his father, James, but...He had his mother's eyes: green eyes, the color of sparkling emeralds. And he stepped forward just a bit, but he saw the tightness in both the Minister's eyes and in Madam Pomfrey's. Minister Fudge looked at him expectantly. "Auror Moody, I have an order I must give to you. I want the arrest of two muggles; Petunia and Vernon Dursley for the abuse of a child; a magical child, so yes, it is in my jurisdiction."

"I wouldn't doubt ye Minister."

"I'm sure you would have. It's quite a shocking situation. First the Earthquake and now Harry Potter turns up! Quite the day! Quite the day indeed." Minister Fudge gave out a barking laugh. He quieted down within the second though and looked at Madam Pomfrey. "I'm sure we can figure out the finer details later, however, through the trial they will be given-"

"MINISTER!" The door burst open and the Head of the Department of Magical Creatures busted in. His face was frantic. "We have received alert of an unidentified magical creature that has been killing muggles in Surrey!"

"Oh Merlin! What in the Heavens is wrong with Surrey all of a sudden?" He cried.

"A lot of things, sir." The man uttered. "But it's killed not one but two children."

"-Do you know their names?" Came the quiet kid known as Harry Potter. He stared widely at them, his fists were clenched.

"I think one was -um- a Dylan Dudley or something like that. The other started with a P-"

"Piers and Dudley!" Harry exclaimed.

"Do you know them Harry?" The Minister asked.

"Why yes! Dudley's my cousin."

"So I will be arrested the now deceased cousin's parents?"

"Oh my goodness." Harry said, his mouth open in amazement as he looked around. "My cousin is dead." It wasn't a happy expression. Rather one of mourning and of sadness. Harry didn't know how to feel. He hated Dudley but that didn't mean he wanted him to die. He thought of the creature that had tried to attack him. It must have got Dudley. "What about my Aunt Petunia? Is she alright?"

Madam Pomfrey clutched his shoulder softly. "Remember, Harry, Headmaster Dumbledore has her in his office."

"Wait, why does Headmaster Dumbledore have Petunia Dursley in his office. Why was I not made aware of their arrival? I am the Minister! I should know these things!" Minister Fudge practically demanded...He then paused. "How did you get to Hogwarts, Harry?"

"This man came and saved me…" Harry mentioned.

"And what did this man look like?"

"I don't know. It was all so fast. I was being attacked by a creature. I can't remember. He left as soon as I got to Hogwarts." It was a lie. But Harry had a feeling the Kingsley would get in big trouble if he told the truth. He hated lying but call it payment. The man had saved his life.

Auror Moody knew what had happened or rather he was suspicious. Albus Dumbledore was getting himself into things he would not be able to back out of. That was for sure. But if Harry Potter was being abused; the world had a right to know. He stood back and nodded. "Do you want me to get her husband first or pick her up from Hogwarts first?"

"Her- We might as well tell her of the death of her son. Then get the husband."

Harry stood silent as he stared at the ground. His cousin was dead. His aunt and uncle would never forgive him. They would never forgive his world. "-And Bazily; Catch that beast." He told the Head of the Department of Magical Creatures. Soft hands crept on his shoulders. He wondered if this what family felt like. He barely knew this woman and he had never even met that man before but this world had done so much for him already. Maybe, finally, someone would believe him. Someone would save him from the hellhole that is his life.

Finally it was just the three again. They had been in this room for nearly forty minutes or so. Minister Fudge looked kindly at Harry. "I'm sure all of this will be solved, Mr. Potter and if you're truthful, we will find you a good home. I promise it. That man keeps trying to do my job and I don't like it. I don't like it at all. No matter who placed you in that home. No matter whose hit you or not. Criminals shall feel the power of the ministry. And let me tell you, Mr. Potter. We wizards do not like child abuse, obviously I'm not so sure about muggles."

"Than-Thank you." Harry's voice broke. "I'll finally be free of the Dursleys. Thank you. Will you really give me a new home?"

"Of course! And you'll get the last choice in your home. I swear it. I will not make you live where you don't want to." Minister Fudge looked at Madam Pomfrey. "Maybe you should take him to look around Diagon Alley. I don't want him to bear witness to this arrangement. It's already been a terrible day."

Madam Pomfrey nodded before holding her hand out to Harry, who graciously accepted it. He may have been eleven, but he felt much younger. He didn't mind. Harry wasn't too prideful of a boy. The moment they exited the Ministry's doors, Harry's eyes popped open. "Woah." He whispered as they watched the gaggles of people swarming into stands and shops.

"You know, your new family will take you here sometime in August or July." Madam Pomfrey said.

"Will they?"

"Yep; For your time here at Hogwarts, you will be needing supplies."

"Oh, I don't have any money for private school." Harry said, his eyes darkening as he looked away, his gloominess evident on his face.

She frowned. "Harry. Your last name might not mean much in the muggle's world, but to here it is very important. You're a Potter. The last one in fact. You're much richer than you think. And even if you weren't a Potter, you're the savior of the wizarding world."

"Savior of the wizarding world? But I haven't done anything."  
"Nothing you can remember. You were but one when your parents died."

"My parents died in a car crash."

"A car crash? Did your aunt and uncle tell you that?" She slightly demanded. "No, Harry. Your parents did not die in a car crash. They died fighting against a tyrannical man known as You-Know-Who?"

"That's a silly name. You-Know-Who."

"That isn't his real name of course; it's bad luck to say his real name."

"But what is it?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Are you sure you wish to know. It really is bad luck."

"Yes! I defeated him didn't I? I at least deserve to know who killed my parents."

Her eyes softened. "Of course. They called him Voldemort." She practically muttered the name but Harry caught it anyway.

"That's the name."

"Yes."

"Are you serious?"

"Deadly."

"That's a ridiculous name."

"I agree but that no matter ridiculous names: He was a terrible man who killed many and many here, although they would never say, are still supporters of him."

"What did he support?"

Madam Pomfrey often had to have talks with students over this. She hated that she not allowed to tell the students of the prejudices at Hogwarts and other such things. She would offer therapy if she could. "They didn't like halfbloods, muggles, muggleborn?"

"I've managed to conclude that muggles are normal people? Right?"

"I don't like to word it like that, but yes. And Halfbloods have one muggle parent (or Muggleborn) and one pureblood parent (whose whole family is magical), and Muggleborn are random people who've been gifted with magic."

"Interesting. Why didn't they like them?"  
"Tradition, Harry. Silly tradition. They thought muggles were savage and barbaric, which isn't true for all of them." What Harry didn't tell her as he nodded along, listening, was that he found some agreement in their views. He hadn't met any kind muggles. Apparently Mrs. Figg had been a squib or something like that. But he had met no one else. He knew that for a fact. The nicest people who he had ever met, he had met today, and they had been wizards.

"Now, if it isn't destroyed. Perhaps we can find this really good ice cream place: Florean Fortescue's." She looked out at the half-destroyed Diagon Alley. "I think you need it. I think we all do." And she wasn't wrong because out there, somewhere, was a savage beast killing things, and two abusive people being brought before the law, and an older man whose plans were rapidly falling apart within a whole day.


End file.
